Image by Kenzie Saunders (License CC BY-SA 2.0)
They call it the first rung of the Los Angeles ladder. You’re right at the beginning, commencing your terrible journey into heartbreak, poverty, arguments, and being taken for granted.
You’re new, so no one thinks you can do anything or know anything.
For me, this stress has always been doubled because of the way I look. Who’s going to believe that a small, blonde, ex-model knows anything about anything? I still see it in some people’s eyes. They shoot a sideways glance when I open my mouth and begin to debate.
I’ve even had family members tell me what I do to earn the bulk of my living isn’t actually a “proper job.” That my hours of intensive study for other people’s PhDs “isn’t science.”
It’s pretty fucking horrible being seen as a dumbass. Even when I do the work and prove myself, I’m patronized; told I am being a “know it all.” Well you know what, I’ve worked hard to be a know it all. Though I’m still technically underemployed, I am still a hell of a lot better off than I was last year when I was still in Swansea.
“When a local businessman called me up and asked if I wanted to join his team of solar power experts, little did I know I would end up at a fucking call center.”
I have little love lost with my home town, Swansea. It has always been a godless place, where my opinions on life were never mirrored by my peers. All the same, I realize being an optimist means finding the good in everything. As an optimist, I knew there were three loves I could maintain in my life in order to make things easier. The first of those loves was music.
I’ve always had eclectic taste – I’ve relished the joys of listening to, learning about, and living through the music I love. So when faced with a shitty living situation, I thought I would take a job working the door of a nightclub. No, I wasn’t a bouncer, I just took payments from customers. The music was alternative, and it was the most expensive place to get into on Swansea’s notorious Wind Street-so surely it wouldn’t be that bad?
WRONG. It was SHIT. The clientèle were just slightly less cheap Swansea scum. They were constantly looking for fights and drugs and excessive amounts of liquor. When the fights broke out, the bouncers would usually get involved to the point a mini riot would occur. I would stand there, taking kicks, getting spat on, and I dread to remember what else. Why did I stay? Because the job allowed me to earn fairly decent money, plus tips – which I didn’t share, because tip sharing is bullshit – and listen to great music.
My second love is the planet, so I undertook a degree in Geography. I loved it. Three years of studying people, and the planet, and the ways they work together. I mean, it was perfect. Within three years I learned that we’re all categorically fucked from climate change, which is definitely man-made. I also discovered I love helping people, but not actually being anywhere near them.
For example, I would definitely work for a charity (if I was paid enough, and didn’t have anyone micromanaging me), but I’d never like to actually meet the people I’m helping. On second thought, perhaps I should just play the Capitalist game. You know- become a millionaire, and then just give money to charity, just to be on the safe side. Anyway, I like the idea of helping people.
For me, helping people means giving them something – information, objects, ideas – these are things that can positively influence their lives. So when a local businessman called me up and asked if I wanted to join his team of solar power experts, little did I know I would end up at a fucking call center. Don’t get me wrong, it was a fun work environment. We’d shoot nerf guns at each other, and the boss would take us for pints after work. Sometimes they even gave us a bonus, but still, being there meant I had to be around people.
They would be sitting next to me, lanky and sweaty, hungover from last night’s lager and coke binge. Potential customers would be in my ear, screaming at me for calling them to literally give them free solar panels. I believed in the work because I understood the science of it. Even if we’re fucked from climate change, at least I can tell my potential future grandchildren that I did my part.
However, after ten weeks of working in this hellscape, I started to pray for the end of times. Not one of the people I worked with, nor those I was trying to supply with free solar, actually gave a shit about the planet. It was miserable, heartbreaking, and left me feeling perpetually underemployed.
My third love is writing. I often write directly from my mind. I find it peaceful, enchanting, informative, therapeutic, soul food, and mindful. It also allows me to voice my opinion without ever having to deal with another human being, which is basically just bliss. When I was working in my shit bar job, and attempting to give the people of Britain free solar, I was still writing, but I wasn’t getting paid.
Writing is the one thing I could do with total freedom, and yet, I wasn’t making any money from it. However, I never gave up. Despite that, I had a full breakdown one day. I lay on my bedroom floor in a heap, shaking and coughing, sobbing and screaming. There were other factors at play, and I am not ashamed to admit that I was heavily depressed. I came back to California once again, spending every penny I had earned through my underemployment. I stayed for three months, hired my attorney, and got the visa process going.
It sounds crazy, but I think I went through my underemployment for a reason. It gave me perspective. I would rather be poor in a country and a career I love, than in a higher position in a job I care nothing for. That is the truth of underemployment: it will kill you.
In the last year I have gone from 22-years-old, to 23. I have loved. I am in love. I have become an immigrant. I have earned lots of money being miserable, and hardly any money being filled with joy.
That is what YOU NEED TO DO. I see you, reading this post and wondering what the heck I’m on about. YOU need to work your arse off, take the shit jobs if they pay, but always keep your eye on the prize. Whatever it is you love doing, KEEP DOING IT. If it doesn’t pay now, it will eventually. So long as you have heart, you work your butt off, and never let the bastards get you down, you WILL GET THERE! Trust me, I am living proof of that, I am barely five minutes into my real life. If you’re reading this and you need advice, then get in touch via social media. I am here. I will listen. I might hate people, but I don’t want any of you to give up. Your dreams are worth it, and so are you.
Kay Smythe, The British Bitch in America.
You can follow her on: